


Sorry Replacement

by adanedhel



Category: Children of Húrin, TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Dirty Talk, First Time, Loss of Virginity, M/M, also maybe kind of dub con? i didnt mean for it to en up like that sorry, beleg/turin is mostly implied, god is this really the only fic of them oops, guilty feelings, its not great though ill tell u that, just 2 bros boning in the woods u know whats up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-01
Updated: 2020-01-01
Packaged: 2021-02-27 08:34:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,471
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22074106
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/adanedhel/pseuds/adanedhel
Summary: Andróg is not Beleg, but maybe that's for the better. (or worse?)
Relationships: Andróg/Túrin Turambar, Beleg Cúthalion/Túrin Turambar
Comments: 5
Kudos: 17





	Sorry Replacement

**Author's Note:**

> this came out a little more dubious than i intended so im sorry if this is weirdly uncomfortable i just wanted to write about Túrin angstily trying to forget Beleg in his new life by making some Poor Coping Decisions :'^)

Andróg had been watching him for some time. _Watching_ him. Túrin was not oblivious to his lingering eyes, and it made him greatly uncomfortable. It hadn't been so long that he'd been this band's captain, and Andróg had been second to the captain. Túrin was wary that perhaps Andróg was scanning him for weaknesses, waiting to get him alone and take what he felt was his place as captain.

So was not the case, apparently. Andróg had caught him alone, followed him on a walk from camp, though Túrin was aware he'd been followed. Hand on the hilt of his sword, he walked cautiously, straining his ears for the sounds around him. Andróg was a sneak, but not to any caliber enough to elude Túrin, who'd been trained by the best in woodcraft. Mostly by Beleg, personally.

Beleg, who he missed. Beleg who was strong and tall and beautiful. Túrin missed more than anything their time in the woods together, on the marches of Doriath. Fighting and driving the filth of Morgoth out of their land was the greatest pride, and to do so beside Beleg was even greater. Fair as he was strong, and twice as kind. Túrin cared deeply for Beleg, and more than that, he could not deny that Beleg stirred certain feelings in him. Alone together in the woods often as they were, and Túrin just becoming a man when he'd moved out onto the marches with him...

Túrin was cut off from his thoughts by Andróg stepping out in front of him. Damn it, he hadn't meant to distract himself. His grip on his sword tightened, and his back went rigid. "Andróg," He greeted and inclined his head.

"Rare to catch you off guard, Neithan." Andróg chuckled, and crossed his arms, leaning against a tree, "What are you doing walking off so far from camp?"

"Minding my own business, as I'd suggest you do, as well." Túrin grunted out, looking down his nose at Andróg.

"Ah, right, right, you've got _business_ that needs minding. Out here, alone." Andróg snickered and took a step towards him, unfolding his arms, "I haven't minded my _business_ in a while, maybe you're right. But why bother alone?" Andróg's smile was not aggressive, but it made his stomach twist. The way he looked Túrin over, too, was making the hairs on the back of Túrin's neck prickle to attention.

"Alone because it is what I wish, now leave me." Túrin gritted his teeth, fingers twitching on his sword as he made to walk past Andróg, who caught him on the arm. Túrin didn't catch whatever remark he made, because he was lost in a moment of blinding white rage, and had Andróg pinned to the tree, sword at his throat, before he himself had time to think about it.

"Hey now, Neithan, I mean you no harm. You'd draw your sword on an unarmed man? One of your own?" Túrin could see the sweat beading on Andróg's forehead, and feel how quick his heartbeat had become. And he was unarmed, he noticed. Túrin withdrew his sword, but kept him pinned with his arm. "Besides, it was a different sort of drawing swords I had in mind, coming out here to find you."

Túrin opened his mouth to demand an explanation, but before he could Andróg explained himself enough. Andróg had grabbed his inner thigh, and was kneading as his hand moved higher up, towards Túrin's groin. An embarrassing, surprised sound escaped him, and he pushed back away from him. _Oh_. Things made a little more sense, now, he guessed.

Andróg hadn't been watching him, he'd been checking him out. He was sizing Túrin up to see if he'd had a chance. Túrin flushed at the realization, and turned away, sheathing his sword. "I remember how you were with that girl. Didn't bat an eyelash. Never seen a man care less about a naked woman in front of him. Only the type who don't care none for women." Andróg looked pleased with himself, as if he had found out some vital secret Túrin had been keeping. So what if he didn't prefer women?

"Just because you believe I wouldn't bed a woman, what makes you think I'd bed you?" Túrin scoffed, but didn't turn back to face him. Being raised mostly by elves, Túrin had particular ideas about what it meant to sleep with someone, and that certainly wasn't something he'd want with Andróg.

"Oh, you're a man aren't you? Men have needs!" Andróg took a step forward again, "Needs I can help with. When's the last time you had someone, eh?" Andróg made to reach for him again, but Túrin moved out of his grasp, and gave him a sharp look. "Oh, I see. Never been had, then, judging by your face. " He chuckled again, and took another step towards Túrin.

"It is no business of yours what I have or have not _had_." Túrin kept his distance, taking a step back for every step forward that Andróg took. "As I said, I have little desire to lay with you."

"Is there anyone you do? You can just close your eyes and pretend, I won't mind. Call me by any name you want." Túrin was backed up against a tree now, feeling foolishly vulnerable. Andróg was at least twice his age, and while Túrin could easily best him in a fight, this situation was something different. It was weird, uncomfortable, and Túrin's face burned as Andróg brought a hand up to rest on his cheek.

Túrin tried not to think about it, but, there was someone he'd like to have. Thoughts of Beleg crowded his head, memories of them alone together, huddled for warmth, or bathing together in a stream. Beleg's wide chest and strong back, his...

Andróg cut his stream of thoughts off again, this time by pressing his lips up against Túrin's. Túrin stood, back against the tree, unmoving, as Andróg mouthed against him, trying to get some reaction. Unsatisfied, he groped between Túrin's legs again, and pulled another surprised sound from him as he found his mark. This gave Andróg the opportunity to shove his tongue between Túrin's lips, but just for a moment. Túrin shoved him away with all the force he had, and sent Andróg tumbling to the ground.

"Have I not been clear?" Túrin's voice rumbled, not shouting but not lacking any power for it, "Do you wish to join your previous captain? Do not forget it was such behavior that cost him." He bared his teeth, and looked nearly feral with his anger.

"Your body certainly has been," Andróg sneered as he scrambled back to his feet, "Don't think I didn't notice. Clearly the thought of someone got you a little excited." He nodded down at Túrin's groin, who was suddenly conscious of his slight arousal. Thinking of Beleg, and being grabbed so, had had an effect on him that he desperately wished it hadn't.

If Túrin wanted anyone, it was Beleg. He would not settle for some wild, woodland criminal. But then, Túrin was just that, wasn't he? Would Beleg settle? Would it even matter? Surely by now Beleg thought him nothing but a murderer, a betrayer, abandoner. And even if he didn't, he would never see him again. Túrin would never return to Doriath. Perhaps he should move on.

Like this, though? No. Would he really consider bedding Andróg to drown out his lost love? It was a ridiculous thought. Even as he dismissed it, he looked at Andróg, his fair hair bound tightly behind his head, and his shoulders wide. Perhaps he could pretend. He shook his head, how could he seriously be considering this?

He realized he had been standing in silence, with Andróg watching him, no doubt calculating his next move. Túrin did not know what to do. He did not know if he was willing to throw out all his notions and ideas about sex, just to have a tumble in the leaves with this man, and he certainly knew it wouldn't be wise. He chewed his lip, in thought. Those ideas he had learned in Doriath. Those were the ways of elves, not men. Túrin sighed.

"Come on, Neithan. It'll take the stress out of ya, I know you could use it." Andróg licked his lips, and stepped towards him again. Horribly persistent. Túrin did not move as Andróg took yet another step forward, and sensing no resistance, closed the distance between them, and again took Túrin's face in his hands. "I'll treat you real good, captain, don't worry about that." And he kissed Túrin again.

This time, Túrin did not resist, but neither did he respond. He let himself be guided until again his back was agianst the tree, and Andróg's chest pressed against his. One of Andróg's hands moved from his cheek into his hair, gripping almost gentle, and the other dragged down his face, down his neck, his chest, and laid on his hip. Andróg licked and nibbled at his lips, trying to get some kind of response, and when he didn't, he groped at Túrin more.

Túrin bit his lip, trying to keep any sounds in, but as Andróg rubbed him through his clothes, he lost his own battle and his mouth fell open, puffing out tiny gasps. Andróg grunted approvingly, and slithered his tongue past Túrin's teeth, feeling and probing and invading any space he could. Túrin had never kissed someone romantically, let alone so open-mouthed and lewd, and even if he'd had the thought to he did not know how to respond. He simply stood, crushed between Andróg and the tree, being fondled. He conceded to this, right? He should at least give something back.

Tentatively, he began to press his tongue back aganst Andróg's. He was not sure what would feel good, or was supposed to feel good, but he did his best, opening his mouth wider and tangling their tongues together, occasionally a light moan slipping past and Andróg rewarding him with an especially firm rub of his palm, or tightening his hand in Túrin's hair.

Right, he should return that, too. Túrin lifted his arms from hanging awkwardly at his sides, and put a hand on either of Anrdog's hips, resting there for a moment, unsure where to move. He thought of what he would do if it were Beleg, and his hands moved of their own accord. If it were Beleg he wouldn't have to think twice. His arms snaked around behind Andróg, and groped his ass, squeezing and digging his fingers into the muscle. Not as pert, not as firm as Beleg's, but not unpleasant to fondle. Andróg let out a small moan of his own, and moved from kissing Túrin on the mouth to trailing across his cheek, and then nibbling at his neck.

He gripped Túrin's hair a little harder, and pulled his head back to show more of his neck, which Andróg gave wet, lapping kisses to, and dragged his teeth across. Andróg withdrew his hand from Túrin's crotch, and instead pressed their bodies tightly together, grinding his hips against Túrin's and grunting softly into his neck as he did. His hand slithered up under the hem of Túrin's shirt, and smoothed across his chest, fondling and feeling the expanse of it.

Túrin was becoming lost in the sensations. It was easier than he'd thought to imagine Beleg before him, and as much as he told himself this was to move past him, it was far too tempting an idea. Túrin's eyes fluttered shut, and he breathed in deeply. Andróg's mannish scent filled his nose, and he regretted that it wasn't the thick smell of summer firs that always clung to Beleg. Túrin, without thinking, reached for the tie in Andróg's hair, and let out a shuddering breath as he ran his fingers through the blonde locks. Not as fair, nor as silky as Beleg's, but it was fine. Anything to help with his illusion.

Andróg pulled back, breathing heavily, and skimmed a second hand underneath Túrin's tunic, gathering it up to his armpits. It took Túrin half a moment to realize he was trying to get it off, and Túrin suddenly felt self concious, but unlatched his cloak pin, and shrugged it off his shoulders before lifting his arms so that Andróg could finish pulling it over his head.

"Undress for me, baby." Andróg groaned as he began to make quick work of his own clothes, fumbling with belt buckles and buttons in his haste. The pet name certainly took Túrin off guard, and he stood still for another moment considering the situation before he began to remove his trousers. He'd come this far, it's not like he could turn back. So he stripped for Andróg, and soon they both were naked among the trees. "Come here." Andróg got to his knees on the ground and beckoned Túrin down to him.

Túrin nodded, and kneeled before him, awaiting any further instruction. He had no idea where things were leading, if he was being honest with himself. He was not completely sure how two men went about coupling, but he would find out before too long, surely. Andróg went back to kissing him, and feeling him up. Hands dragging up and down his body, groping and squeezing here and there, stopping to knead and play with his ass for a few moments. Túrin mimicked his motions, feeling the rugged body under his palms, and sighed out his nose. This is nothing like how Beleg would feel. Beleg was smooth and soft and his whole body was firm and strong. This must be how he would feel under Beleg's hands, and again he thought that maybe it was for the best he was not with him for real. Beleg could only be disappointed in the body of a man, with his own perfect self as the basis for comparison.

Slowly, Andróg guided Túrin until he was lying on his back with Andróg nestled between his legs. Andróg's hand gripped both of their sexes together and he stroked them together, panting and cursing as he did, and pulling whines and moans from his captain. Andróg marveled that touching him so could turn the most intimidating man of their bunch into a keening mess. If only the others could see. Splayed out for him like a maiden under the trees, Túrin was. Andróg's cock throbbed against Túrin's in his hand, and his patience grew thin.

"Just a minute." He drew away and dug into his clothes, searching his pockets for something. He found it, and scrambled back over to position himself between Túrin's thighs, stroking one of them gently. "You've never been fucked." It was not a question, but Túrin nodded anyway. "Suppose I'll be taking this slow, then." Andróg removed the lid from the little container he'd brought, and slicked his fingers with a thick, slimy, oily substance. Túrin thought better than to ask, but he noted that the bastard had come prepared.

"I thought, at first, you being a virgin and all I better let you do the fucking," Andróg shook his head and grinned hungrily, "But boy, you sound so good I can't wait another minute to be inside you." His words had Túrin's cheeks flushing more than they had already been, practically as rosy now as the head of his cock. Andróg moved his slick fingers down between Túrin's cheeks, tracing the cleft, and circling around his hole.

Túrin sucked in a breath, suddenly he was nervous again. He should have guessed this is how it would be, but he already resolved to see this through. Perhaps it would not be the deep, loving, spiritual sex of elves, but sex was supposed to feel good, so he would let this happen. Andróg petted his thigh, and slowly pressed the first digit into Túrin's hole.

Túrin shouted. Up until this point, he'd been mostly quiet, with few embarassing sounds slipping out. It was not a shout of pain, no, one finger was not a stretch enough to cause any pain. But it was strange, not at all what he expected. It was more an exclaim of surprise than anything, but it startled Andróg, and he pulled it out.

"Neithan, you okay? One shouldn't hurt, are you alright?" Andróg, too, sounded nervous, but Túrin thought it was probably less for Túrin's well being and more for fear that Túrin would thrash him if he hurt him at all.

"Fine... just. Weird. Keep going." Túrin grunted out, and took a few deep breaths to relax. Andróg brought his finger back, and pushed in even slower this time, until he was in as far as he could reach. He paused, looking up into Túrin's face for any sings of distress or discomfort, but finding none, he bagan to move it. In and out, at a slow, painstaking pace. The slick drag against Túrin's insides was a new and strange feeling, and he could not decide if it was good or bad yet. After a few minutes, Andróg seemed satisfied with the ease at which his finger was able to glide in and out of Túrin's body, and slowly added a second finger.

This one burned a bit, Túrin was definitely feeling the stretch. He let out a sharp exhale through his nose, and Andróg again slowed his pace to an agonizing slow-motion. Andróg also noticed that Túrin's cock was beginning to soften, from neglect and discomfort with being penetrated. He kissed along the inside of Túrin's thigh once his fingers were fully seated, and began to pull them out again as his lips brushed along the base of Túrin's cock. He kissed along its length as it rested on Túrin's belly, and when he came to the tip he laved it with his tongue and dragged back down to the bottom.

Túrin's quick breaths became quicker, and leaden again with his soft, breathy moans. Andróg's own cock twitched between his legs, but he was too occupied with keeping Túrin aroused for him that he would have to wait. It was not a regretful wait, though, as he wanted to last as long as possible inside Túrin's tight virgin hole. Andróg suckled at the head of Túrin's cock, and took him into his mouth, bobbing in time with the thrust of his fingers, and using his free hand to grip Túrin's cock as well.

With less time between than the first two, Andróg shoved in a third finger, less slow as well. He took Túrin deep in his throat as he did so, and swallowed around him as he adjusted. For this, Túrin let out a loud, delicious, strangled moan as he bit down on his hand that made Andróg's cock jump with anticipation. He could not drag this out any longer.

He pulled himself back off Túrin's cock, with a horribly slick sound, and worked his finger eagerly into Túrin, who was panting openly and letting out the most perfect whines and grunts. "Oh yes, baby, you take them so good." Andróg soothed as he stroked Túrin's cock lazily, and stretched and scissored him open.

Túrin's fingers dug into the mould beneath him, and his toes curled as he was worked. Almost overwhelmed, he gripped for purchase on anything around him, and ended up grabbing a handful of his own hair just to anchor him in some way. The sensations had gone past awkward, and past the slight pain. There was hardly any discomfort to be found as he was fucked by Andróg's thick fingers. He felt so stretched and full and open that he couldn't imagine being able to fit a cock inside him, but he desperately wanted it. This he would close his eyes and imagine was Beleg's. If he would never get the chance, at least this once he would give himself the pleasure of imagining his beloved elf being the one to plow him into the soft earth. And oh, surely thats where Beleg would want him most.

"Ahhh, fuck..." Túrin whined loudly as Andróg's hand was withdrawn from him. His hole twitched and shivered, feeling empty, and his cock throbbed with the thought of what would replace them.

"Shh, don't worry, baby. I'm gonna fuck you so good." Andróg smoothed a hand across his stomach, then gave his cock a few firm tugs. "Flip over."

Túrin mindlessly obeyed, rolling over and propping himself up on his knees and elbows, thankful for the softness of the earth. Andróg shuffled around behind him for a moment, then Túrin felt the head of his cock press up against his entrance. A low, heavy moan ghosted past his lips, and became louder and higher as he felt Andróg press inside.

"Oh, oh, oh..." Tumbled out of Túrin as slowly, inch by agonizing inch, Andróg drove his cock inside. The stretch was intense. He'd felt at his limit with just fingers, he could not have imagined this. His cock was so hot inside him, and the sensations tingled on the edges of pain.

Andróg was in bliss. His eyes were screwed shut tight, and his mouth hung open, slack and silent as he bored into his captain. By the time he was sheathed fully inside him, his balls felt tight and he needed to take a moment to calm down, lest he spill immediately.

Túrin was glad for this pause, because it gave him a few moments to adjust to such a jump in girth. He hadn't paid close attention to the size of Andróg's cock, but Beleg would have to be at least as big or bigger. Túrin almost choked at the idea of trying to take something bigger than this. He already felt like he was beyond capacity, but for Beleg he'd take anything. He took a few slow, deep breaths, feeling himself shake as he held himself up on his elbows.

Slow, Andróg dragged himself out, and pushed back in with a fraction more speed. Túrin felt all the breath pushed from his lungs, and desperately inhaled as Andróg pulled out again.

In this way, he built his speed up. It was a snail's pace, bit by bit, but after a few minutes of slow drag he was fucking Túrin at a nice, even speed. Which Túrin was coming absolutely undone under. He cursed under his breath, and every thrust was punctuated with a loud moan or whine. He bit his lips to stop Beleg's name from escaping them.

Andróg was more than pleased as well, grunting and panting with increased volume as his pace picked up. They were both glad for their distance from camp, for they became almost embarrassingly loud, and the lewd sounds of their bodies meeting practically echoed through the trees.

"Oh, fuck yes, baby." Andróg huffed out, "You take cock so good, you feel so good." Túrin didn't hate Andróg's apparent taste for dirty talk, but running his mouth made it harder for him to pretend it wasn't Andróg fucking him. He was leaving a bruising grip on Túrin's hips, and one hand made its way back into Túrin's hair, pulling his head back and bending his spine up as he plowed into him.

"Oh, your virgin ass is so tight. Mmmh, Neithan, baby, you're so fucking perfect on my cock, made for this..." Andróg's stream of pointless chatter only increased as he reached closer to his limit. "Baby I'm gonna come, come in you..." He breathed into Túrin's ear as he laid his body flush against Túrin's, weight bearing down on him.

Túrin let out a growl that turned into a shout as Andróg's hand snaked around him and pumped his cock in a sloppy rhythm. His lungs were filled with the scent of the fresh soil and leaves underneath him, and as Andróg's hair spilled over his shoulder, he bit back screams of pleasure. He focused on this, and the hand jerking him off, and the feeling of being filled, and nothing else. For a moment, he felt perfectly like it was his handsome wonderful elf who he was with, and that moment was enough to send him over the edge.

Túrin's mouth fell open in a silent cry as his eyes, and hands, and toes, and gut all clenched, never had he felt anything as intense as the orgasm that he was being fucked right through, still with a hand gripping around his cock.

Andróg was so absorbed in his own pleasure he wouldn't have noticed Túrin had even finished if not for the tight spasming and quivering of Túrin's insides. He continued to stroke until the cock in his hand grew soft, but he didn't let up from the merciless thrust of his hips.

"Mm, what a good boy coming for me, Neithan." His voice was breathless, and Túrin could feel his abdomen still clenching and spasming around Andróg. "Oh, yes, fuck, baby yes I'm coming..!" He grunted and gasped and the snap of his hips came uneven and sloppy, before he stilled inside Túrin, who could fell himself being filled with hot seed.

They both stilled for a moment, huffing and panting and riding out the last shockwaves of pleasure, before Andróg's cock slipped out with a sound that made Túrin's nose wrinkle. He was still on his knees, his limbs shaking and his head drooped forward, exhausted. He was sweaty, and a mess, and knew he'd have to find somewhere to bathe before he could return to camp. Everyone would know what he'd been doing if he showed up with muddy knees and leaves in his hair.

Túrin lowered himself to the ground, the cool earth a welcome relief on his burning skin. He would probably regret this. He heard Andróg shuffling around behind him, dressing and mumbling something before he left straight back to their camp, leaving Túrin to recover alone. He already was regretting it.

It was almost completely dark, now, he should follow the same. He made to sit up, and winced at the soreness of his insides, and the sensation of seed dribbling out of him. No, maybe he needed a few minutes. Or a while. Andróg would cover him, probably. Or brag about this to his mates. Túrin sighed and pulled his cloak around him.

He would not spend the night alone and naked in the woods, but he needed a rest. He curled up at the base of the tree, and closed his eyes. What a mess, what a mistake. He wished for Beleg, for a comforting presence at his back and strong arms around him. Beleg would not have fucked him and ran.

Túrin buried his face in his arms and wept, shuddering and silent as the moon rose over the trees. What a mistake.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you so much for reading and for suffering with me!  
> you can find me on tumblr too! https://adanedhel.tumblr.com/


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